


Broken Heart Rune

by SunandShadowBoth



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt Luke, Hurt/Comfort, It's a happyish ending, Mentions of Suicide, Protective Luke, Protective Valentine, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Transformation, Unrequited Luke/Jocelyn, Well - Freeform, Werewolves, okay I lied, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunandShadowBoth/pseuds/SunandShadowBoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was this beast now. He knew he'd have to come to terms with that. The thing he couldn't accept was the fact that all his runes were gone. Even the one that kept him sane while Jocelyn fell in love with another man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So as you may have noticed, I really like werewolves. And Aidan Turner. So here's a fic about Luke as he changes from shadowhunter to werewolf. Hope you enjoy. :D

It was just supposed to be a normal patrol.  
He trusted Valentine, he still did, even after what Jocelyn had told him. He knew that she was afraid of him, that she wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing anymore, but Luke still trusted his parabatai. If he didn't know that Valentine had his back, then where would he be?  
But then his friend, his best friend, loyal companion, the person he trusted with his life, wasn't there when he needed him the most.  
He brought him out to patrol, and then left him, right when the werewolves were upon them.  
He'd never felt so alone than in that moment. Not when he'd been picked on in class, not when Jocelyn married Valentine, never.  
This was a rogue pack, the members of which had nothing left to loose. They didn't care if they lived or died, as long as they could make the shadowhunters pay for whatever perceived transgressions had been committed against them.  
He fought them off best he could, but he was surrounded within minutes. He had his training, he knew what to do; instincts kicked in as he slashed and hacked, protecting all sides with the power of the runes flaring to life on his body, granting him speed, dexterity, strength. Jocelyn had drawn them on him in the moments before they'd left, and they were burning away much too quickly.  
He remembered thinking it was over in such an anticlimactic way. One of the wolves broke through his defenses, clawing the seraph blade from his grip. He cried out and clutched his hand to his chest, still looking for Valentine, still hoping that his friend would save him from this situation in which he was so clearly out numbered.  
But no assistance came, and so he stabbed the offending shifter through the chest, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction from the wail it made as it died. He was just about to allow himself a small bit of hope; there weren't too many left, maybe he could get out of this with nothing more than a shredded wrist, when a werewolf came at him from behind, digging its claws into his back.  
He bellowed and spun, trying to shake the creature off of him, but it simply snatched his shoulder up into its jaw, forcing him to his knees. His blood spread down the front of his black gear, worming its way down through the worn creases in the fabric until it dripped to add to the increasing puddle of crimson.  
The wolf shook him once, knocking the breath out of him as it threw him to the dirt. He couldn't remember exactly what happened next, except that he was on the ground, and there was pain. A blinding, breath-taking agony that made it impossible for him to move.  
He didn't know when or why the werewolves left, only that once he finally recovered himself, they were gone.  
His wrist and torso were on fire, but he shoved it away, forcing himself to think. He was a shadowhunter, he'd felt discomfort before, he knew how to manage it. Deal with it, Graymark, you know what you have to do.  
There was an angry splash of red around him as he pushed himself to his hands and knees. His left arm gave out when he put weight on it, so he pressed it against his chest in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.  
It seemed like things were happening in flashes of bright sensations, with periods of darkness between. It was raining, and he was somehow on his feet. Blackness.  
He had to get back to the mansion, he had to see Jocelyn. Blackness. Why did Valentine leave him? Blackness. He could see the house now, but it was so far away and there was thunder rolling in the distance. Blackness. Would she miss him when he was gone?  
And then somehow he was up on the porch. He couldn't remember crawling up the steps, but he must have. He was collapsed against the front door, feebly pounding on it, vaguely feeling guilty about the blood that stained Jocelyn's welcome mat. He'd have to buy her a new one if he somehow managed to live.  
Someone answered, and he could see her bright red hair as she leaned over him, horror in her eyes. Relief rushed through him; at least he was going to see her one last time.  
"Lucian? Luke?! By the angel, Lucian! Valentine! VALENTINE!" Her voice seemed to be coming through towards him in a fog, filled with terror, but he still thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.  
"Weren't you supposed to be on patrol with him?!" Jocelyn asked her husband, presumably.  
"I lost him, I turned my back for a second, I swear! I thought he'd be fine, it's not as if we've had a lot of problems in the past few weeks-"  
"YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED WITH HIM!" Jocelyn practically screeched, hysteria underlying her tone as she knelt over him.  
His vision was fading, but he could hear her whispering to him as Valentine picked him up, like he was 12 instead of 20.  
"Stay with me Lucian, come on, you're going to be just fine. It's alright, it's okay, oh god, Valentine there's so much blood, we need to hurry, please!"  
The next thing he knew he was lying in a soft bed. He wanted to protest because he was probably ruining the sheets, but no sound would come out of his throat. The familiar burn of a stele marking runes was the only thing he knew, before the pain finally subsided and he let himself drift away.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't out for long. The fresh sting of a stele being dragged none too gently across his skin made him swallow back a groan as it brought him back to the world of the living.

"Valentine, be careful," Jocelyn reproached her husband, and he growled under his breath.

"They aren't working like they should. It's like something's stopping it…" Valentine trailed off as the pressure of someone's hand on Lucian's shoulder sent new spikes of pain through him, "Jocelyn, look."

There was a gasp, and then a muffled sob as if someone was barely holding themselves back. What was on his shoulder, what was happening to hurt Jocelyn like that? It wasn't him was it? He vowed he'd never hurt her, ever, he wouldn't, he didn't know-

"He's been bitten," Valentine's voice was dead, devoid of emotion.

Those three words numbed him to the very core.

He'd been bitten.

By a werewolf.

It didn't compute, didn't make sense. He was a shadow hunter, this wasn't supposed to happen, he was Nephilim goddamn it-

"Luke, its Jocelyn… I need you to drink this okay? It'll help with the fever," her voice sounded as if she was on the brink of tears, and he wanted nothing more than to hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright.

He knew he was lying to himself as the concoction sent him spiraling back into unconsciousness.

* * *

When he finally woke up, for real this time, Jocelyn was sitting in a chair next to his bed, her hand on his arm as she slept. The simple contact sent a fire through him that wasn't so different from the pain he'd been in and he shifted slightly on the pristine white sheets so that they were no longer touching.

Her head snapped up at the movement. Confusion blinked in her eyes for a second before she saw that he was alert, and a bright smile spread across her features.

"You're awake," she said with a sigh, rubbing her forehead with her palm.

He didn't answer. The words just kept echoing in his head.  _He's been bitten_. Over and over.

"Lucian?"

He finally glanced over at her; even that small movement sending aching sensations up his neck from the wound on his shoulder.

When she saw the broken look on his face, her happy demeanor crumpled, "You remember."

"You probably shouldn't be near me right now," he whispered, his throat raw, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she said with complete conviction, "I know you won't. There's still hope, not everyone who is bitten turns. We have until the full moon at least, we can try to figure something out-"

"There's no cure, Jocelyn."

"I know, I know, but... We'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded, even though an undefinable sensation settled in his stomach. He had only a few weeks left with her. And then if he shifted…

It was all over. More final than the wedding, more final than Jocelyn finding out she was pregnant… it would be better to be dead.

"Can I just… be alone for a bit?" He asked, hating himself for causing the brief flare of hurt in her eyes.

"Sure. I'll be back in a bit to check on you though, okay? You're wounds are healing slower than they should be..." she seemed to trail off in the middle of a thought before abruptly spinning and stalking out of the room.

He peeled the sheets back, careful to avoid jarring his bandaged wrist too much. There were iratze covering his body, but the rune he was looking for had a very different shape.

It was where he'd drawn it last, small on his hip. When he'd first marked it on himself, it was large and right over his heart, where it'd make the most impact. The closer to the heart, the more potent, they'd always been told.

Valentine and Jocelyn had told him they were dating earlier that day. He'd been so furious with his parabatai at first, because he knew, Valentine  _knew_ , that Lucian himself was in love with Jocelyn. She'd been his best friend, his only friend until he joined up with The Circle. He couldn't help it. When she was around, it was like the world had more color, more life, and even the demons didn't seem as evil.

But they'd looked so happy together that he'd forced himself to stay silent, and internally forgave the both of them. He'd sat down and burned the broken-heart rune into his flesh less than a minute after they'd gone out on their dinner.

He'd always hoped deep down that they'd break up and he'd get his chance, but they just became closer and closer. Then came the marriage. He'd only put the symbol into his skin the one time before the day of the wedding, but on that morning, he had to have drawn at least six of them, up and down his chest.

They faded. And he took to reapplying the mark as needed.

Jocelyn had seen it a few weeks after the wedding, during one of his training sessions with Valentine. They'd both been shirtless; he wasn't thinking. He managed to blow the questions off by claiming it was some other girl he'd meet in a coffee shop. Jocelyn had shaken her head and said that she didn't deserve him, that he should have told her about this mystery girl sooner. After all, what were best friends for if not to be able to tell each other anything and everything?

He'd laughed and said it really wasn't a big deal. He'd taken it too fast, gotten reckless with his emotions, gotten ahead of himself. He just needed to take a step back and he'd be fine.

After that, he made sure to draw the rune in places where Jocelyn wouldn't be able to see it accidentally. Her questions would lead no place good, and he didn't think he'd be able to function normally around her and Valentine without it.

Sure enough, as he brushed his finger over the space where the rune had been, it had worn away again. He carefully reached for his stele, which Jocelyn had left on the table next to him and traced the previous lines, clenching his teeth at the searing sensation. The numbness in his chest returned, and he fell back against the pillow with a sigh of relief. It didn't hurt so much now, to think about what he was going to have to do in a few weeks. Maybe Jocelyn was right. They'd figure something out.


End file.
